The story of Rosha and Martouf
by Katianna
Summary: The story of a love that lasted lifetimes


The story of Rosha and Martouf

Part One

By Katianna

Authors note: I always wanted to tell this story. I hope it lives up to expectations. True, it is unlikely that the Tok'ra work in days, months and years, but still you wouldn't have a clue if they started talking about yaren, daneth and utat, would you!?! And I know Sam said they didn't talk about Jolinar leaving on the night at Lok'tanna, but I had to explain the trip somehow Enjoy. (unbeta'd apologies for typos)

Rosha looked up, wide-eyed, at the vision that stood before her, offering her immortality and god-hood in one breath. The man knelt beside her and, with the voice of the gods told her of an existence beyond the illness that plagued her and would shortly take her life. This man was surely a hallucination, a further stage of her illness. She smiled at the beautiful blue-eyed illusion and took his offered hand. It was surprisingly warm for the hand of an æthereal being.

"I will come with you, my god."

"I am not your god, child. No Gou'ald deserves that title. They are not true gods." With this the apparition helped her stand and lead her out of the room in which she had intended to spend her last days. She was lead far into the chambers of the lord who she had so loyally served before her illness. Then the pair descended to the lower chambers. Rosha slowed as they continued to walk, her illness draining her strength and drawing the life from her bones. Stopping to regain her breath, she questioned the delusion.

"What is our purpose here, phantom?" The mirage smiled gently at her.

"I am no phantom Rosha. My name is Lantesh; my host is Martouf. We are here to see to my love, Jolinar. Her host, Ti'sha, is dying and will soon pass into the next world. You will become her new host. She will heal your illness and then we will leave this place." Lantesh, as the fantasy had named himself, turned then and took Rosha's other hand. It was only then that she noticed how tall he was. He was near a head above her, and she was not a short girl, being over a head above her mother before she had been taken from her home to join the service of her lord. "We will only continue with this if you wish it Rosha. You must be willing to be host to a symbiont, to join the Tok'ra."

"The resistance?" Realisation dawned slowly. "You, you are Tok'ra! You fight against the gods." Awe filled Rosha. "Are the rumours true? Have you truly killed Zeus?"

"Yes, Rosha, but we need your help. You must believe me when I tell you the Gou'ald are false gods. All of their magic is illusion."

"No true god could be killed. I believe you. But I am ill, I will soon die. Of what use am I to the Tok'ra?"

"You will soon be joined with Jolinar and then you will be well again." Lantesh stepped forward and lifted Rosha from her feet. "Come Rosha, we must hurry now. Jaffa approach."

A raven-haired woman lay on the floor of an unguarded cell, seemingly asleep. Her eyes fluttered open as the pair walked in.

"_Lantesh_" the word was barely whispered but the shadow heard and dropped to his knees beside the woman.

"Jolinar, Ti'sha fades. A willing host awaits you."

"Who? Is she there?"

"Yes, my love. She is a young woman in service to Ra. She is Rosha. The terras illness has her, but it is mild and should not strain you to heal."

"Where are you young one? I wish to see you." Rosha knelt before the raven-haired woman whose eyes were clouded and unfocused in the closeness of death.

"I am Rosha. I am willing to serve the Tok'ra."

"Then you are a brave soul Rosha, and I thank you."

When Rosha opened her eyes she was aware that she was not alone. A presence within her was all that told her of the ancient life that now lived alongside her. A great sadness filled her, as she looked upon the raven-haired face that although she had only seen for the first time that evening, she had known for a great many years as her own. A great grief filled her as she watched the woman take her last breath and she heard herself offer up a prayer for the woman in the next life. _Ti'sha_. An internal voice provided a name for the raven-haired woman. "Goodbye Ti'sha, my old friend." she whispered, although she could not tell whether or not it had been her prompting the words.

A hand was offered to her and she took it, looking up into the sorrowful blue eyes of her love. _Lantesh_, the voice offered_, he is my love and will be yours, can you feel his love for us?_ A series of pictures, like recalled memories, yet not from Rosha's past, flashed into her mind. There was a broad-shouldered man with hair the colour of the night which flowed in gentle curls to his shoulders - _Padraig_, the voice provided, _his first host_ - pulling the raven-haired woman, Ti'sha, behind a wall seemingly made of crystal to avoid blasts from the long staffs used by the Jaffa. Then another of the same man - _Padraig_, the voice reminded - injured by a blast and a figure she recognised - her delusional figment (the inner voice laughed at this) - stepping forward to lie before the injured man and accept the Gou'ald as Rosha had just done. _Martouf_ - the name of the host as he had told her before her joining. _This is our Lantesh. He is our mate. He is real, no deception. He is ours._

"Jolinar, are you safe and well, and Rosha?"

"Yes, my love. But Rosha is curious and I am tired. You must explain to her when we are free of this place."

And together again, Jolinar and Lantesh left the great mothership of Ra before the false god even knew they had left the cells.

Thus it was that Ti'sha became Rosha and here Rosha's true story begins. Yet it is not until 40 years later that we do re-join the lovers, for much of that which should be told in between is of spies and subterfuge. This makes for poor action, for when one has as much time as the blended, very little is rushed. Suffice it to say the Tok'ra were cautious warriors, great believers in the idea that all battles take time and, since they had rather more of it than anyone else, they would not waste lives without reason. Over those years the love between Lantesh and Jolinar, from that of Padraig and Ti'sha to that of Rosha and Martouf, did not falter and, although challenges frequently lay in their paths, they strove to remain true to each other. We shall re-join the lovers before Rosha and Jolinar leave on a mission of utmost importance to the council, 40 years from the death of Ti'sha and almost 80 years from the humble beginnings of Jolinar and Lantesh's love.

There were two moons high over Lok'tanna as Martouf and Jolinar reached their favourite look-out spot on the Tok'ra's current base-planet. The ridge was still lit by the red glow of the sinking sun as they stood hand in hand on the summit. Jolinar was to leave on a long-term mission the next day and both were reluctant to leave each other, needing the other's comfort during the hard times the Tok'ra were facing with the suggestion of a full scale war on the horizon.

"Do you remember when we met?" It was Martouf who broke the silence first, wanting to hold the moment in his mind forever.

"Tell me of it, love, it has fled my mind." Rosha's smile was contagious, quickly caught by her love, spreading over his face like the dawn sun rising. She loved his smile and had resolved to ensure it rarely left his face in her company.

"I was Padraig then, and you Ti'sha. They were better times, when the Tok'ra were not as hunted and the system lords were in turmoil. Selmac brought you to us and I thought a true angel had appeared. You wore green silk, a robe much like you wear now, and you smiled at me when I welcomed you to the Tok'ra. I thought I would loose my wits, but Selmac stepped in and lead you away."

"Serouche was younger then, age did not touch her. She is still strong, but age graces her features now."

"Ti'sha was very different to you, Rosha."

Rosha's young eyes appeared - her voice without resonance.

"In appearance, my love, but in soul we are one. Your current host is just as dissimilar to Padraig. He was not as tall." Jolinar grinned. She often teased Lantesh about the height he had gained when he had taken on Martouf as a host.

"Nor Ti'sha so small." He replied. Jolinar sighed.

"Both our perspectives have changed." Sadness gathered in the now-resonant voice. "As has the perspective of the Tok'ra. There is much afoot in the land of the system lords and our tranquillity must a-time be broken. The time has come for action."

"I wish it were not so, Jolinar, but this is a quest for you and you alone. Only you can carry out the subterfuge needed for this action."

"I will return, my love. Of this you can be sure. You will see me before long."

But Jolinar was to be proved wrong. It was to be a long time before they were again to meet, for this was to be a most disastrous mission for Jolinar and her young host.

The suspicions of the Tok'ra had been correct. Apophis, Sokar and Chronos were attempting to forge an alliance against the system lord Ra, one of the first to take the form of a human as a host. They were jealous of his power and possessions and wished to divide it amongst themselves, knowing they could destroy him if they worked together. Although Ra was strong, he did not cause trouble among the system lords, only leisured, enjoying his many lands and people. For this he was welcomed by the Tok'ra, for he caused many disputes between the other system lords which kept them fighting amongst themselves. Were he to be removed, there would be great disruption for the Tok'ra. Many unified system lords were more trouble than several who fought amongst themselves, constantly using up resources, diverting their attention.

After communicating her findings to a relay station that would inform the high council, Jolinar prepared to wait in the home of Sokar for a reply with instructions of her next move, be it to return to the Tok'ra or to carry out the next move against the Gou'ald.

The pod, carelessly aimed, collided with the moon's surface at a high velocity, causing the base to crumple. The air was humid and rank as the door to the pod slipped open and with this Jolinar took her first breath of the moon of Netu. Stepping from the wrecked pod, she was glad that it had been a newer model, had it not have been she might not have survived the landing. She cursed her luck. The poison had been prepared and in all three glasses before Chronos' first prime had entered, telling the room of the traitor rebel, discovered in a ship some two light-minutes away from the planet. They had discovered the relay station, and her communication. She was revealed quickly and, just as quickly Sokar had offered the facilities of the prison moon Netu, making sure to mention the fact that no one had ever escaped his personalised hell.

'It is based on a mixture of the original host's world, the Tau'ri's, myths and religions.' He explained, as much for her benefit as that of the system lords, to whom he was demonstrating his strength 'They often talk of a place they believe they will descend to in the after-life if they do not perform in life exactly as their god demands of them. I found the concept quite amusing.' His disgustingly long nails tapped rhythmically on the surface of his chair-arms. 'The air is highly polluted with various toxins that are diluted so as to make breathing painful, but not fatal - although long-term tests have not yet been carried out. Also the inner core of the moon has been ignited, using a powerful system of force fields to keep it from destroying itself. This makes it almost unbearably hot. I have allowed a single staff weapon and a single hand device on the moon, for my loyal servants. They use transporting rings to report to me often. They also provide any entertainment needed to keep the inhabitants occupied.' Jolinar was in no doubt about the type of 'entertainment' that would be offered, but was interested to hear about the transported rings, for they were a recent discovery by the Gou'ald and to have them between a moon and a planet must take precise engineering. It also provided her with a means of escape, could she access it. She felt like thanking the boastful lord for explaining the planet to her. Unfortunately she did not have time before she was escorted to the ship that would take her to the moon.

The man before her was gross, tall and wide, blocking the hallway with his bulk. He leered at her, causing her to back away.

"You are new here, Tok'ra, and I am going to be giving you extra special treatment, as commanded by my lord." He took the time to look her up and down before moving on. Noting the hand device he carried, Jolinar realised he must be the lord of Netu. Surprised to find her hands shaking slightly Jolinar collected herself and moved down the corridor to the empty corner she had found to sleep in out of the way of the crowds of the inhabitants of Netu, and away from the most intense heat of the main halls. It was early the next morning when Jolinar opened her eyes to the leering face of the lord of Netu.

"You will come with me, Tok'ra. My lord wishes to speak with you. Maybe when he's finished you and I could have a little private talk." His smile left nothing to the imagination and Jolinar shuddered to think of it.

"I will accompany you to Sokar. But I do not believe I will attend our private talk." The smile dropped from his face and the back of his hand reminded her of his power here.

"You will not speak to me like that. This is hell, but above the ground is death. You just remember that my lovely. Binar does not stand for such behaviour."

The woman who knelt before Sokar was fair. Sand coloured hair fell below her shoulders and blue eyes burned with rage. A thin dress was ripped and soiled, barely concealing her. He had no doubts that eventually many of the inhabitants of Netu would wish to have their way with her, although against a Gou'ald few would succeed. But this was not unusual in the predominantly male population of Netu. What did surprise the lord was the heated desire that was plain to see in the eyes of the lord of Netu - Binar's eyes. He wondered briefly how the Tok'ra could have seized the man's desires so, but his attention was quickly diverted.

Every muscle in her body shuddered and shook. She could hardly raise her head to look at Sokar who sat before her. His long nails threatened to break as he tapped them quicker and quicker; having grown bored of the candle's flame. He looked up at his servant, dressed in red with peaks on his shoulders and a pitchfork in his hands, dressed as the devils of Tau'ri dogma. She had told them nothing. Not one word had passed her lips. Sokar was beginning to lose his white-faced calm. The servant dragged her to her knees by her hair, holding her there whilst the shock-stick was once again inserted in between her shoulder blades. She cried out this time, a scream that reached the ceiling and resounded throughout the whole building. Still she said nothing. She would not put the life of her lover and her people at risk.

Selmac nodded at the young Tok'ra and shooed him away. They had lost two operatives and a ship to Sokar. Poor Jolinar had been such an asset to the cause. Martouf would be heartbroken. He must be informed, she decided, rising immediately then cursing her speed as her body protested. She was getting old, of that there was no doubt, but at almost 100 it was not surprising. Making her way slowly to Martouf's room she cursed her age once again as she found him alone in his quarters, tears coursing down his face as he looked upon a picture of his missing mate. Sitting down beside him she saw that the picture was an old one, showing Jolinar in the host of Ti'sha.

"She is in hell." Martouf told the wise woman, although it was something she should already know and understand.

"Of what do you speak?"

"Sokar has a prison which he calls Netu. Jolinar is there. No one has ever escaped from hell, Serouche. It may be that I will never see Jolinar again."

"How do you know she is there? It may be that she is at rest and in peace."

"No. Sometimes I dream of her fear. She is on Netu." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "And I intend to join her." Selmac did not think to doubt that Martouf had indeed dreamt of Jolinar's true whereabouts. When two sybionts lives together as long as Jolinar and Lantesh had they developed a bond, which went beyond the explainable sometimes. But what Martouf was suggesting

"MARTOUF! How could you talk of abandoning us like that!"

"I cannot leave her to face hell alone. She is my love. I cannot dream of her and be powerless to help her."

"And what would she think of your weakness. Would you help her by being there? Would she find it easier to escape if you were there with her?"

"Did you not hear me Selmac? No one has ever escaped Netu."

"Do you doubt Jolinar's intelligence?"

"Never."

"Or Rosha's level-headedness?"

"It is inescapable."

"Or Ti'sha's patience."

"It stayed with Jolinar, even after her death."

"Then how can you not know that she will escape? There is no doubt. You will just have to be patient and level headed and you will have to make sure that the Tok'ra are still here for her to return to." Martouf contemplated for a moment.

"But I miss her so."

Jolinar screamed again as the shock stick burned into her muscles. Sokar was getting bored. He sent for her less and less, but it did not dissuade Binar from seeking her out as often as possible to leer at her or ask if she wished to join him for a 'private conversation'. She knew Martouf was too sensible to come to find her, but often she dreamt of him turning up, if only to show Binar his fist and to leave again.

It was a fateful day more than a month after her arrival on Netu, when Binar sent for her, sending a messenger rather than coming to retrieve her himself as was usual. Arriving earlier than expected she observed as Binar lifted a pendant from around his neck and inserted it into a panel on the wall, pushing several buttons - programming in a time delay on the ring device to transport them to the surface. Jolinar had always assumed that the rings were sent by Sokar - because surely he would not be so stupid as to put a key to the rings on the moon - and this had shattered any hopes she had been harbouring of using the rings to escape. But this revelation was wonderful. Binar had the key. And she had a way home.

It was three days before she had recovered from Sokar's torture enough to put her plan into action. Quietly wooing the Lord of Netu. Suggesting secret attraction, admiration and fears of inadequacy for the great lord. A week later, when the time came she silently begged her love for forgiveness, cried tears of shame and entered Binar's rooms with a smile on her face.

She stood and lowered the hand device, looking around and trying to determine if any of the Jaffa guards had set off the alarm. Taking a zat'nikatel from one of the floored guards she used three shots on each one, having been tortured by each at least once. It seemed to be a treat that Sokar reserved for his best Jaffa.

Having spent several weeks memorising the layout of Sokar's palace it did not take her long to determine her position and the direction in which she would need to head to get to the port where she would be able to borrow a tel'tak to get home in.

She was mere moments away from the ship it seemed had been left unguarded when a shout revealed that she had been identified. A zat'nikatel blast knocked her forward, thankfully inside the ship, out of range of the other blasts that shook the ship she was now safe inside.

Struggling towards the controls still affected by the blast of the zat'nikatel she programmed a simple ground fire avoidance manoeuvre into the guidance system and hoped.

Feeling the ship jump correctly into hyperspace she released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Finally the events and torture of the last two months caught up with her and, together with the pureness of the air in the tel'tak, caused her to fall into a comfortable unconsciousness.

Martouf jumped to his feet. As he was in the middle of a meeting this caused a few people to look at him strangely.

"Lantesh? What is it?" Selmac questioned when he said nothing.

"I must go."

"Go where?"

"I do not yet know." Smiling at the fleeting figure, Selmac laughed internally at the mutterings of the others, thinking he had become a little mad at the loss of Jolinar. They were too stiff sometimes. At least Lantesh could still stir them up a little. Besides, it looked like Jolinar might be rejoining them. That would impress them very much.

Martouf was at her side in a second as Rosha awoke screaming. Soothing her with soft words and light touches. He could see Jolinar's absence clearly in the young woman's eyes. It was a child who stared back at him. He yearned desperately for Jolinar, who had not shown her presence in the two months that she had been back with the Tok'ra, leaving Rosha to explain as best she could what had happened. But she always drew a blank when asked to describe her escape from the inescapable prison. She remembered nothing between going to sleep that night and waking up in a tel'tak, lost and alone. She had been worn down by the torture at the hands of Sokar's guards and she passed in and out of consciousness, trusting that the guidance systems knew where they were going. When she woke to Martouf's face, she thought that once again she was seeing hallucinations, but soon she was in his arms and safe. She had never felt so lonely as she did then, without Jolinar's company with which to share their love, Lantesh. When Jolinar did not resurface after a month, many began to think that she was lost to them, but still Martouf stayed with Rosha, hoping that someday his love would return to him in whole.

Read and Review, what do you think? Part two should be up soon.


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